Just, One More Thing
by Sorida
Summary: Being trapped in an abandoned house messes with your mind. When Zim and Dib are on the run from an insane paranormal investigator, Zim takes the opportunity to ask a question. Inspired by Dib's Wonderful Life of Doom. ZADF
1. Prologue

Summary: It's been years since Zim arrived on Earth. It's been months since he discovered the mission was a lie. It's been days since he had a suicidal thought. Hours have passed being trapped with Dib in an abandoned house trying to escape a mad man. While they hide, Zim takes the time to ask Dib something that has been on his mind for a long time. This was inspired by Dib's Wonderful Life of Doom.

Disclaimer: I don't own Zim. What made you think I did?

Prologue

The night was calm, almost peaceful. The clouds occasionally shadowed the moon, the stars could be seen, and the air was crisp. Suddenly, loud footsteps broke the relative peace of the evening.

A green boy darted past various houses as a tall man chased him. Most people would find this normal. Nobody else noticed that the man wasn't the teenage boy they thought he was. Zim, out of disguise, wasn't being chased by Dib.

Zim glanced behind his back, gave a small yelp, and then tried to pick up speed. The man following him reached into coat pocket and readied his gun.

"Give up alien!" he shouted to the retreating figure, "I know what you are, and I am going to annihilate you!"

"I've heard that too many times worm-baby!" Zim yelled back, "Come up with an original plan for the capture of ZIM! You have tried poisoning, chasing, and inflicting pain upon me and nothing has worked!"

"I know what you are! You are an Invader!"

"I...I'm not a real Invader!" Zim shouted, hurt apparent in his voice. But what difference did it make now? If it could save his life, then he would tell the paranormal investigator behind him.

"I know you're lying, alien scum!" Zim winced. It didn't feel right without Dib saying that to him. Dib, he knew about it yet every day, he would still try to make Zim's life a living Hell. As they progressed through the grades, Zim couldn't take the taunts anymore. He stopped going to Skool once they reached High Skool. Dib had tried to sneak into the base multiple times to try and expose Zim, but each day he came, Zim was never there. The days he broke into the base had been days when Zim left it to get Earth supplies. One of those days, he ran into a paranormal investigator and ever since, he had tried to capture Zim through various means.

Back in the present, Zim noticed the street he was on. Yes, this was familiar, only a couple more blocks until he reached the base. A soft click reached his antennae. No, he wouldn't...would he? He would have to make the trip short. The house, it was only a couple feet away! He could get help. A shot rang out in the night and the footsteps stopped. A weak knock was heard and another bang rang through the air.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Dib! Get the door now! I'm busy!" Gaz shouted while playing Vampire Piggy Slayer 4. Dib came down the stairs and mumbled something about having a lazy sister. He went to the front door and opened it.

"Hello Dib-human."

"Aaaahhh! Zim! What are you doing here?" Dib yelled. Zim was leaning against the door post, breathing heavily.

"There's no time to explain human, I...I...I...require assistance from you." Zim said; his voice hoarse and weak. Any hopes of assistance were shattered when Dib began laughing.

"You need the help of a HUMAN! Oh man Zim, that's great!" Dib hollered with his eyes closed in amusement.

"I should have known better not to trust ANYONE." Zim said darkly. It went unnoticed by Dib though, who was still laughing his heart out. Zim looked over his shoulder and saw that the man had left. He never did any of his "work" when he saw human interference. Zim let out a small sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't be followed home. But he still needed help getting home. Two bullets had entered his body and that horrible human had disabled his PAK legs earlier. Zim clutched the doorway harder trying to remain upright. Dib had opened his eyes as Zim closed his in pain.

*Maybe he does need help...* Dib thought, but pushed the thought aside. So what? Let Zim suffer a bit for once. After all, he got himself into whatever mess he was in. He could get out of it just fine, right? Zim was strong, he could pull through.

"Listen Zim, there's nothing I can do. This is your problem, not mine, so don't drag me into it." Dib said. He closed the door.

"So who was it?" Gaz asked as Dib entered the living room.

"Um...survey person."

"Didn't they stop going door-to-door after that one guy never returned?"

"No, they just don't go to house 777."

Zim stood outside the house for a few seconds, staring at the door. He sighed and limped in the direction of his house. His PAK legs were still offline and couldn't be accessed for another five minutes. Even then, they weren't at full power and could only support Zim for about a minute.

Zim kept on limping until he heard a twig snap. Spinning around too fast, he saw that the man had returned. Upon being noticed, the man ran towards Zim. Across the street, Zim noticed the old abandoned house he and Dib had hidden inside (when they were bologna) until the dogs were gone. Despite the pain in his body, Zim sprinted towards it.

A few more shots were fired. None of them entered their target, but one grazed Zim's right antennae. Zim hissed in pain and finally entered the house. Looking around, he spotted some old stairs and ran up them to the second floor. A signal in his PAK told him that its legs were back online. Zim quickly used them to hide in the rafters above the stairs just as the man entered the building.

"Fine alien, I am finished for tonight! But be warned, nobody can hide from me for long." the man shouted, leaving the house. Zim sighed in relief, at least now he could return to the base. Just as he was about to get down, a crack was heard. The rafter Zim was on gave way under his weight and both plummeted into the stairs. Those broke from the impact and Zim was once again on the first floor, covered in debris. His leg was caught under a beam, the other still bleeding from the gunshot. The other gunshot had lodged itself into his side. His left antennae hung crooked and useless while the right was severely injured. Three ribs and one arm were broken and various cuts could be seen on his face.

Zim tried to activate the PAK legs again, but there was no response. The impact had done something to the PAK, but it couldn't be fully analyzed without the Computer. Zim sighed in defeat. He was going to die here from blood loss or something of the sort; alone, weak, and at the hands of that terrible man known only as Bill.

Dib walked home alone from another day of High Skool. Gaz was still in the Middle Skool which got out later than the High Skool. He stopped for a minute and looked across the street he was on. The abandoned house was there, the same one he and Zim had taken shelter in from the dogs. Man, being bologna sucked...a lot.

Glancing at the sidewalk near the house, Dib noticed a trail of green liquid, green blood...Irken blood. The same stuff he had seen on his doorstep.

"Shit!" he shouted, running across the street to the house. He ran inside and surveyed the area. Where would Zim be? Was he still there?

"Zim!" he shouted, "Zim, are you here?"

"Dib?" a hoarse whisper said.

"Zim? Zim, is that you?"

"No, it's Lady GaGa. Of course it's me!" the whisper said curtly.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Dib replied to the odd use of Lady GaGa in sarcasm. "Where are you?"

"Do you see a large pile of debris?"

"That could be anywhere! I mean, just look at this place!"

"Use your brainmeats then! Look for a large pile of wood or something! Just hurry up! Every second you waste is a second of Zim's life that I could be using elsewhere!" Zim scoffed.

"You know, I could just leave you here."

"Well, you did that once already so a second time is expected. But I know you won't leave me here."

"You think you know everything, don't you? You're so arrogant."

"It's simple psychology Dib-human. You humans tend to give into this thing called "guilt" which is usually associated with "sympathy" and "pity"."

"What makes you think I'll sympathize with you? Or pity you? I don't care about your so-called "mission". And to be honest, my life has been ten times better ever since you left school. I have friends now and I met some other paranormal enthusiasts. I'm happy without you in my life Zim, so why would I pity you?"

"If you must know, I'm dying. If I'm not back at my base by tomorrow morning, I'll die here. This is not something I want to admit, but exile from the empire has changed my thoughts and habits. Dib, I need help." For once in his life, Zim's pride lowered enough to let him sincerely ask for help. He had tried contacting GIR, but nothing in the PAK was working with the exception of the essentials, life-support, atmospheric pressurizer, the works.

Dib stood still in the rotting house. Zim needed help, his help, to live. He was vulnerable, weak. The thing was, he didn't care. Zim could die and he wouldn't give a shit. Dib didn't care and, surprisingly, he didn't mind this insensitivity.

"Whatever Zim, I'm going home." Dib turned to leave, but stopped once he heard a small yelp.

"No, please don't leave Dib! If he comes back to finish the job, I'll be living my nightmares! I'd rather you do it than him! Anyone but him!" Zim shrieked as best he could. It was hard to make himself heard; he could feel his ribs poking at or into his squeedily spooch. He didn't want to find out which.

"Who are you talking about?" Dib asked, now curious as to what could make his enemy so panicked.

"That terrible paranormal investigator! He said he'd be back to finish the game! He's going to lock me up in a stasis pod and leave me to rot as the scientists perform horrible tests on me! Please Dib! Don't leave me here! I'll let you expose me! It would be better than him doing so!" Zim felt himself growing desperate as he pleaded to Dib. A life as Dib's experiment would be better than a life as Bill's experiment.

"You'd let me do that?" Dib asked.

"Yes! You never shot me! You never purposely poisoned me to the point of near-death! You never tried to truly shut down my PAK! You never hired people to beat me up! You never wanted me for your own amusement! At least you were trying to help the pathetic Earthanoids. This other guy just wants me for "personal reasons" that I have no intention of learning about. Please, help me."

Dib looked down at the ground as Zim mentioned everything that had happened over the years. Is that where all of those injuries came from he would see over the feed from the spy bugs? Is that where the paranoia of leaving the base came from? Is that where the quietness came from? The sparking PAK? The sickness that nearly killed him? Is this what was causing him to be overprotective over GIR? All the evidence pointed to one answer: Yes. This had changed Zim so much, warping his mind beyond recognition. He was no longer the loud, incompetent, proud, confident "Invader" he had been when he arrived. No, now he was paranoid, quiet, and just not Zim-like at all. Whatever he said that resembled his old self was said half-heartedly and without a purpose other than to appear "normal". It was then Dib realized that he had also contributed to Zim's recession.

He had harassed Zim when the truth appeared. He continued the war when the other side had obviously given up. He fired every blow and all Zim did was drop out of school. After all, what else could he do?

"Oh man Zim, I-I'm sorry." Dib stammered with an overwhelming amount of guilt. Zim wouldn't spend this long in a "depression" for a stupid Earth-conquest plan. No, this had been him for years. Zim was a shell of his former self.

"Um...I don't know what to say Dib..."

"Where are you?"

"Do you see a pile of wood anywhere?" Dib looked around and spotted a large pile near what looked like an old staircase. Well, it was busted now.

"Yeah, the one near the broken staircase?"

"I think so. I couldn't really see where I fell. I just know there was a lot of wood."

"Ok, hang on Zim." Dib said, walking over to the pile. Ignoring the splinters, he carefully lifted some of the wood beams off of the pile. After moving the first beam, he saw something green. Yes, this was the right pile.

Within ten minutes of lifting, he found Zim in a sorry-looking state. He was just a mess sitting in a large green puddle...oh no. Dib stopped, speechless. Zim wasn't lying when he said he needed help.

"Dib, could you get that beam over my leg?" Zim asked.

"Oh yeah, sure." He removed the beam and went to help Zim up from his position among the debris. Neither noticed the door close, or the man enter the house and trap them both inside. That is, until it was too late.

As Dib offered his hand to the alien, Zim retracted his and gasped. Dib raises an eyebrow as Zim pointed to something behind him. Slowly, he turned to face the man.

"You have something I want." The man said menacingly.

"Who are you?" Dib asked back.

"I'd think you remember your old career day partner."

"Bill?"

"You know him?" Zim asked flabbergasted.

"I was paired with him for Career Day in Elementary School. You know, Ms. Bitters class." Zim seemed to relax a bit. For a few seconds, he began to think the two were in cahoots.

"Yes, I remember."

"Good. Now," Dib turned his attention back to Bill, "What do you want? I thought you were busy with Count CoCo Fang." Dib smirked as Bill grew annoyed.

"No, I've left that behind me. The alien behind you is my focus at the moment." Bill replied.

"Why? I discovered him first."

"It is trying to take over the planet."

"How many times do I have to tell you that that is incorrect information?" Zim asked, glaring at Bill.

"Bullshit! You lie alien! And your little human friend is in on it! I have no choice but to bring you both with me. The kid will go back to his normal life, but you will be my experiment, my discovery." With that, Bill pulled out his prized weapon, his high-pressure water gun.

"Zim, let's go!" Dib shouted, dragging the Irken out of the debris. As fast as he could, he tried to ignore the terrible pain in his body, he ran with Dib to the kitchen of the house. There, they discovered a door leading to the basement. Without a second thought, they went through and slammed the door shut.

Bill cursed as he came to the door. Well, no choice but to go down and follow them. After all, they knew this house as well as he did. He descended into the darkness without a second thought.

Zim and Dib hid in a room trying to catch their breath. Dib couldn't help but notice Zim breathing erratically and shivering. He needed to get to his base, fast. But how? This basement seemed huge; a labyrinth to one without experience navigating around it.

It was then that Dib realized which house they were in. Although the owner was long gone, it was never wise to wander into this house, especially the basement. It would be hard to out run Bill in the basement and find their way back up to the surface without him noticing. It would be even harder not to get lost. Dib's heart sunk to his stomach as the gravity of the situation made itself clear. They shouldn't have gone down there. There was no way they were getting out.

For this was house #777.

A/N: Yeah, I know it's technically a different house and Johnny might not even have stairs, but that's what fan fiction is for. Plus, Nny's dead in this seeing as Zim takes place in the future so...yeah. And I mean actually dead, as in no returning from Hell. Also, I wrote this start to a chapter fic because I needed a break from Invader Dib. It is officially on hiatus right now and I'll post another chapter on February 22, 2011. I believe that is the day Operation Doom comes out so…yeah, just wait for it. I need the chance to catch up on it so I can actually do weekly updates…hopefully.

Also, I have no clue where I'm going with this story so please, bear with me!


	3. Chapter 2

If there was one thing Dib noticed about the rotting basement, it was this: darkness. The darkness consumed them all, eating away at any light source available. His other senses had been heightened to their full potential, but he felt as though he were blind. Besides, sight didn't do him any good down here. When you can't see the person, or in this case an alien, two inches away from you, you know it's a bad sign.

Dib could still hear Zim breathing, which was a good sign. But that was the only consoling sound in the darkness. He could here the soft pitter-patter of mice (or was it rats?) running across the floors. He could here the cockroaches within the walls. The longer he stayed in that damned room, the more he felt like he was in some psychological Hell. Crap, he was going crazy. He needed to see _something._

"Hey Zim," he whispered to the darkness. No response.

"Zim?" he tried again. No response.

"Damn it Zim! Answer me!" Dib said harshly. Still no response; except for a quiet thump to his right. Or was it his left? He reached around for a few minutes trying to find where Zim was. Finally, his hand hit the Irken's shoulder.

"Zim!" he tried again, shaking the alien. Oh, how he wished for a flashlight!

Zim opened his eyes and just barely made out a hand on his shoulder. Readings from his PAK told him that he had fainted a few minutes ago and he needed medical attention. Suddenly, a small, flashing number appeared in his ocular implants. Curiously, Zim focused on it for a few seconds before mentally, for a lack of better words, freaking out.

There was some sort of countdown clock in the right hand corner of his line of sight, almost like the PAK's life-clock. Zim quickly checked if his PAK was still attached by pushing his back against the wall he was adjacent to. He immediately relaxed as his back uncomfortably arched to the shape of the oval shaped device on his back.

With a more thorough glance at the clock in the corner, Zim realized that the countdown contained three sets of numbers: hours, minutes, and seconds. 27:47:07. His eyes widened in the darkness, death seeming a lot more tangible. 27 hours, only 27 hours to escape.

Dib's shouts brought him back to reality. "What?" he asked; his voice hoarse and weak. What a terrible way to describe him, ZIM, weak. Zim was NOT weak. Then, why did he sound so pathetic? Oh right, dying.

"You wouldn't happen to have some sort of flashlight in there, would you?" Dib asked.

"Of course I would Dib-human." Zim scoffed. One of his PAK legs emerged carrying a small cylinder. With his enhanced vision, Zim located Dib's hand and slipped the metal tube inside of it. Dib squeaked in alarm before noticing that Zim wasn't trying to kill him. He heard a soft snicker beside him.

"Shut up Zim." He snapped, only provoking the alien to laugh harder. Dib's fingers explored the surface of the flashlight Zim had given him, finding a switch within a few seconds. With a quiet "click," a strong beam of light came out of the end of the flashlight. Unfortunately for him, that end was pointing towards his face and, by default, his eyes. His glasses didn't help lessen the glare of the beam at all.

"Nyaugh!" he shouted and promptly fell on his butt. Zim continued to snicker as Dib shot him a look. "You jerk."

"At least I don't have a big head." Zim remarked. Dib was about to yell his classic phrase ("My head's not big!") but decided against it due to the psychopath with a gun on their tails. Well, Zim's tail…Zim's metaphorical tail…

"Ok, listen Zim; we might as well try to get along while we're down here. After all, neither of us wants to die tonight."

"Finally, you listen human. This is what I've been trying to do for quite a long time now. It only took you an insane gunman to make you realize what I was getting at ages ago. Honestly, you humans are so dense in the way you see the world around you, it sickens me to no end. The one thing I've learned on Earth is that death (and death threats) changes people. I guess you're experiencing it first-hand. Congratulations Dib, do you want a prize?" Dib shrank back from Zim, the alien saying everything with such malice that it made him kind of…scared. Come to think of it, the basement was beginning to register a 10 on his "Sketch-o-meter."

Dib's lack of response puzzled Zim. If he knew anything about the big-headed boy, it was that he'd never miss an opportunity to snap a witty remark back at him, let alone let him, the alien, get away with beating him on the sarcasm scale. Perhaps it was the circumstances, or potential doom, preventing the boy from talking. Whatever, there'd be less of a headache for him once the whole mess was done and over with.

"We should probably start finding another way out," Zim suggested, breaking the silence between them, "or wait until crazy-head gets himself thoroughly lost and go back up the way we came." Dib raised an eyebrow.

"You remember where we came from?" he inquired.

"Of course, you came from your parental unit and I came from an incubator."

"Not helping Zim."

"Next time, be more specific."

"So you remember the way out of this creepy place?"

"Much better and yes, my PAK allows me to be highly adaptable."

"That sounds wrong…"

"Can it Dib-worm. Anyways, whenever I'm in a new environment, it scans the area for geography, intelligent life (which there is very little of on this planet) and technology so I can blend in. It's part of the core programming so even if I wasn't an Invader, I'd still have a sufficient disguise if visiting a potentially hostile planet." Zim explained.

"Wow, so many big words for such a tiny alien." Dib commented with a slight smirk, "You've changed more than I thought."

"I wish I could say the same for you." Zim said back. He could feel his body healing. This is what would happen: his body would repair itself, feeding off of energy from the PAK. Because of his panicked and desperate state, the healing process would work double-time, despite the fact that his very life-source was burning itself out. Why, he had no clue. The rain from before could have damaged it enough to go into a bit of a panic mode. The reason, at the moment, didn't matter to his-or Dib's-overall survival. What did matter was getting out in time, fixing the PAK, addressing the PAK's weakness so it wouldn't happen again, and then letting Dib do whatever the hell he wanted.

Assessing his current condition, Zim noticed that most of his superficial wounds were nearly healed. He could practically feel the energy radiating from his face; it was a bit disconcerting. His broken bones set themselves back in place, the broken leg having just enough time to support some of his weight. He'd be limping, but it was better than sitting around and waiting to be shot Irk knows how many times. To really kill him, it'd take a shot to the head, chest region, and PAK. Knowing Bill, he'd receive quite a bit more punishment before being allowed to die in pain. A wounded animal left for the predator never lives to tell the tale. Zim swore that he'd tell his tale someday, to any outcast Irken that cared. He'd changed, no longer caring for Irken society or Earth society. Honestly, he didn't know where the hell he belonged. All that mattered was here and now. And right now, escaping the insanity of the labyrinth and Paranormal Investigator was the first priority.

"We should probably get a move on." Zim said. Dib subconsciously nodded in agreement before helping his new ally to his feet. Suddenly Zim stiffened, his antennae on alert for something. Focusing on the air currents, he detected movement within thirty feet of their position and it was approaching fast. Well, as fast as a grown human male with sufficient exercise that ran on a daily basis. Bill was coming up fast and, to Zim's disappointment, from the way they came. They'd need to run through the basement to lead the crazy guy further into the maze and then pull a U-turn and scramble up those stairs and lock the door all under 27 hours. No pressure, right? Right.

Grabbing Dib's hand, Zim pulled him down a nearby corridor. With a yelp, Dib stumbled after him, struggling to regain his balance. Seeing an open door, Zim pulled them into it, slammed the door, and leaned against it. Quickly calculating the odds, Bill had a 12% chance of finding them. There were so many doors in the basement, so many twists and turns, that the possibility for hiding places was endless. Nevertheless, he made a back-up plan. The room they were currently situated in was the largest room, leading off to another hallway with, guess what, more rooms. Even if Bill found them right away, they had control of the one thing he didn't: the door. The old wooden door, while rotted, was thick and strong enough to protect the two from a gunshot. They controlled who came in, who came out, and when. At least now they had some handle on the situation. Of course, gun trumped fist-fight and malfunctioning alien technology. If Bill managed to corner them, they were most definitely screwed with no more plans.

Deciding to shake himself out of such pessimistic thoughts, Zim turned his attention back to Bill. The human was close enough to hear, footsteps stomping down the long-abandoned hallways. Soon, Dib could here Bill running, his breath catching in his throat. His heartbeat began beating in time with the frantic, impulsive footsteps of their enemy. As they approached closer and closer, the teenager really started to worry.

Could he really trust Zim? Could he trust him to have a back-up plan? Was he actually part of that back-up plan? Would Zim leave him for dead as he did so many times before? Doubt and worry filled Dib's mind, threatening to consume him.

Dib jumped slightly as he felt a hand over his. "Just in case, get ready to press your weight against the door," Zim explained, "knowing Bill, he'll fire a 'warning shot.' After that, we swing the door open and hit him. When he down, you start running and I'll close it. Run down the hallway and enter the third door on your left. If I'm not there by the time you can hear Bill running again, close the door. Only turn the flashlight on when you know he's past your door, then find the next hallway. It'll lead to another set of doors. Take the first one on your right, then the second on your left, and then the second on your right. I'll be hiding in that room."

It was almost too much to process, but Dib remembered it all and hoped he wouldn't be separated from Zim. His small plan reassured him immensely.

"I trust you." He whispered.

"Good, 'cause you don't really have much of a choice at the moment." Zim replied before falling silent. The stomping got louder and both instinctively began panicking…internally of course. Neither would really admit their fear to the other. They were still far too proud for that. After a minute of waiting, the running stopped, filling the silence with harsh panting. There was a quick string of swears (if it were a different situation, both males would have been snickering), more silence, a huff, and the stomping again.

As the footsteps grew quieter and quieter, both breathed a sigh of relief and slouched against the door. Dib couldn't help a smile creep on his face.

"We're lucky bastards, aren't we?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yeah, we really are." Zim huffed, bravado beginning to return.

Unexpectedly, Zim doubled over, gasping for breath as a sudden pain in Zim's side reminded him of reality. His wounds were healing fast, almost too fast. The bullets from the gun, they never made it out of his body. Letting a long string of swears fill the room, Zim prepared himself as best as he could for fresh pain. The bullet holes hadn't closed up, but they were now too small to get the bullet out without cutting into skin to extract them. Did some unnamed deity have it out for him?

Unveiling a small scalpel from his PAK, Zim laid down on his back. "Dib," he said, "I'm going to need you to do something and if you betray my trust, I will leave you for the psychopath."

"What is it?" Did the boy sound concerned? No, no need to dwell on that now. He was willing to help and that was the important part.

"Take this," he shoved the scalpel into Dib's hand, "and shine the flashlight over me. I'm going to need you to perform some…surgery. I never got the bullets out of my body and now my PAK's trying to heal me when I'm not ready. It's overriding certain safeguards and I can't control the healing process at all. What I need you to do his cut deep and wide enough into the wounds to get the bullets out."

"I don't have any gloves!" Dib exclaimed, "What if I get some weird alien disease from touching your blood?"

"You have any open cuts on your hands?"

"No, but-"

"Then you're fine. Irken diseases are rare and far-between. We've extinguished most of them from existence already. Plus, we made sure that they don't evolve. Even if you did manage to get one in your system, it wouldn't know what to attack and you'd flush it out in a matter of days." Dib was still hesitant, but agreed to the procedure.

Under Zim's guidance, he was able to successfully remove both bullets without majorly incapacitating the Irken. Wiping the green liquid off of his hands, Dib took the flashlight from Zim, who had just been holding it to illuminate Dib's "work area," and as Zim allowed his body to heal from the sudden procedure, Dib decided to pace around the room with slight impatience. He'd heard stories of this house, screams coming from the basement at all hours of the night and some poor kid next door who heard it all. Tales came from house 777 of men, women, and children walking in and never coming out. Some believed it to be the workings of the paranormal, out for revenge on the…well, "normal." However, Dib was inclined to believe that the inner workings of the house weren't entirely due to paranormal activity.

Everyone knew some weird guy used to live there, always slaving away in his basement. Most believed he was a washed-up comic book artist, seeing as the graphics from his house contained a suicidal, morally insane stick figure that had a tendency to cuss and spew his insanity to everyone from a soap box. But if this theory was true, then why were there no papers littering the floor?

Curiosity got the better of him and Dib decided to cast the flashlight around. On the ground, there were dozens upon dozens of old, broken paintbrushes, all coated in some rust-colored paint. They all appeared to be pointing towards the opposite wall. As Dib shined the flashlight across the floor, the rusty paint began to grow from small splatters to long, messy streams, permanently staining the ground. Finally, the light hit the wall and Dib nearly lost whatever food was in his stomach. The wall was coated in the rusted paint, peeling and cracking in most places. But now, Dib knew what it was. He walked backwards, back soon hitting the door. Upon impact with the rotted wood, he dropped the flashlight, making Zim jump in alarm. Facing towards the direction of the disruption, he eyed Dib skeptically. All the teen could do was shakily point the way he was trying and so desperately wanted to escape from.

Curiosity overcame Zim as well and he picked up the flashlight. His implants widened slightly as he found the same sight Dib was privy to moments earlier. Silence fell upon the two, neither wanting to say a word concerning the wall.

The wall itself was innocent enough, concrete chipping away from age showing more the building's foundation. What scared the crap out of the two was what was on the wall. It was dried, congealed, and never meant to be seen, on this scale, out of a living body. It was grotesque, uncalled for, and all around screamed insanity and homicidal tendencies.

The wall was coated in layers of blood…as if you couldn't figure that out before.

* * *

_A/N: I just want to take a second and sorry for the wait! As you can tell by my recent activities, I've been dabbling in a lot of different fandoms and Zim kind of slipped from my mind. Nevertheless, I return to you with a new chapter that I hope lives up to the first one. It's slow going, seeing as I'm no longer freakishly obsessed with IZ, but I'll do my best to update and finish this story. *Shrugs* It feels great writing this again, good break from writing about robots beating the slag out of each other. Also, you may have noticed a slight, inconspicuous style change. I hope my writing's improved since my last foray into Zim-dom and please tell me if it has. Also, sorry for rambling, I tend to do that on occasion (aka: every flippin' minute of every flippin' day), I apologize for the suspense, and thanks for the reviews. _


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